Domestica
by Cleopatra Jones
Summary: Life in Starfleet taking place in the past and present simultaneously through Spock and Uhura's relationship. Rating is currently T but will move to M in a separate story called "Domestica: The B Sides Compendium" which will begin shortly.
1. Pull

I do not own Star Trek or any of its characters or likenesses therein. I do not make a profit.

A/N Short and sweet. That's all. Enjoy :O)

*A/N I've received a lot of PMs asking for the story to continue, so I'm changing the status from complete to incomplete. I'm a grad student, so I don't have a lot of time on my hands but I will try to just take it chapter by chapter. Thanks so much for the awesome reviews!

**I have made some slight changes thanks to some issues that were brought to my attention by Phoenix Fangor and Mihra-Attar. I failed to make clear that they didn't have to leave the ship in order to explore dining options (which I will play with more a bit later), and the probability that Spock would utilize contractions is less than 4.3% ;o). Thank you both so much for your vigilance and a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed and sent messages.

Cleo

* * *

He lost track of how long he had been watching her. She was stunning. Simply stunning. The idle beeps in the command room lulling him into an even deeper trance as he stared. She yawned. Spock walked over to Uhura and gently caressed her cheek.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"God yes," she answered while taking his hand and pressing it firmly against her face.

"Then perhaps you should get some rest. I will take over."

Her brown eyes beamed up at him as she smiled, receiving a warm smile in return. It made her heart flutter.

"Ouch, they're kicking!"

Spock knelt down beside her chair and placed a hand on her stomach, concentrating.

"They've stopped. What did you say?"

"Stop kicking your mother," he said casually.

"Of course…Sometimes I swear they have kickboxing matches in there."

"They will be on their best behavior while you rest. I can assure you."

He stood up and offered his arm. As he helped her to her feet, Kirk sauntered over for a better view than his previous perch provided.

"Whoa there! You're getting pretty far along. You gonna take leave soon?"

"Yes, captain. Thank you for your insightful observation," she teased.

"Just making sure. Don't want _your_ gravitational pull interfering with our calculations."

Spock and Uhura looked at each other and shook their heads.

"Thank you Jim," he said as he walked her to the elevator.

"I'll see you later," she said as she placed her palms on each side of his face. "Are we going to cook tonight or do you want to go out?"

"Perhaps we should stay in. I will stop at the commissary on my way home. There is also a documentary on the Akraydian strawberry festival that I would like to see."

Uhura laughed to herself and shook her head, still holding his face in her hands.

"OK, of course…Umm, strawberries sound so good right now! Can you bring―"

"Strawberry ice cream with strawberry sauce and shortbread cookies. Of course." He kissed her ever so softly, and then placed two kisses on her swollen belly.

"Be good to your mother," he said in Vulcan, then rose to his feet.

"I will see you soon my love," Uhura said in Vulcan, the fingers of her left hand bent into a V.

"My love, I will see you soon," he replied, his hand doing the same.


	2. Floating

A/N In keeping with the theme, I'm really sold on the idea of domestic life aboard the Enterprise. So far it's been in little snippets like this one, but there may be longer chapters in the future. I like things to happen organically, so there's no guarantee. Enjoy! And thank you all so much for the positive feedback and wonderful reviews which is love :o) Cleo-

* * *

"Lovely evening isn't it?"

"Huh?" said Uhura, forgetting the numbers that she was entering on the keypad.

"I said lovely evening isn't it?"

"Uh, sure," Uhura said absently as she resumed entering the password. She paused and slowly turned to her neighbor.

"How can you tell?"

Her neighbor―a very, very fat alien with a pleasant face, waddled over to Uhura as she stood at her front door.

"Can't really. Just making conversation I guess. Wow! You're almost as big as I am," he said before bursting into laughter. Uhura couldn't help but laugh too.

"Yeah, I guess…Do you ever get used to it?" she asked. Her voice tinged with the slightest bit of apprehension.

"To be honest, no. You never get used to it. I miss home so much." He smiled to himself and closed his eyes. Uhura could tell he was about to take her somewhere. Somewhere a million miles from her doorstep without even moving an inch.

"Twilight was our favorite. The suns would set in a sky that seemed to be ablaze with ten thousand-thousand shades of orange, purple and pink." He took a deep breath before opening his eyes again.

"You never get used to it…must be really hard for you guys though. You're not that far from your due date right?"

"No. Not that far. We're hoping to be back by then so my family can be there too," Uhura said, as she gave a loud yawn.

"Uh oh! I better leave you alone. Have a good night and tell Spock I said hello."

"Thanks. Be sure and tell your husband I said the same."

"Will do!" he said, before continuing down the corridor.

Uhura finished entering the numbers and barley let the door slide open all the way before making a B-line to the bathing room. All she wanted to do was take a hot bath, curl up on the couch and wait for Spock to bring dinner and those cookies.

"Ouch!" she said, after receiving a series of well-placed excited kicks to her bladder and intestines. "Remember what your father said…that's better." She cocked an eyebrow and smiled. She was impressed that Spock already had them disciplined before they were born.

She quickly slipped out of her clothes and eased her way into the bathing pool. Memories of Earth began to flood in as she made her way to its center. She carefully turned onto her back and reminisced of Africa. The ripples of the pool were like the gentle currents of the crystal clear water of Matemo Island. She closed her eyes. Floating. Suspended in space and time. She let out a deep, slow breath, allowing the waves to sooth her as she hovered above white sand. She was no longer aboard the Enterprise. She stared up at the brilliant blue sky as the warm sun cast her silhouette onto the pearly sand beneath her.

* * *

Uhura picked up an old pair of combat-training pants and scoffed. "Not sure if I'll ever be that size again," she chided to herself, folding the pants and putting them away. With a grunt of disgust, she decided on the beige Vulcan gestation gown. She hated it. She preferred the sweats, but there wasn't enough letting-out in all the universe that could make that happen. She picked up the frock and held it out in front of her.

"This is not a dress. These are curtains. Really, really, really ugly curtains." As the gown fell down her arms and over her head she remembered why she kept it: pure comfort. Plus she didn't want to hurt Spock's feelings. He'd made such a big deal about the whole thing. First, he had to find a Vulcan woman who had conceived after Pon Farr and then have her endow the gown to Uhura in an elaborate ceremony. Her forehead furrowed. Shame washed over her as she thought about how hard it would be to keep to tradition if _her_ entire species were nearly wiped out.

With a sigh, she left the closet and made her way to the living room. She walked over to a large sofa that faced an enormous blank wall. She positioned herself over the most comfortable spot (Spock checked), and slowly lowered and laid herself down.

"Good evening Uhura. What programming do you desire?" said an airy voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously.

"How about…Earth. Travel."

"Your destination?"

Uhura paused.

"Your destination?"

"…United States of Africa. The region formerly known as Mozambique. Matemo Island"

Almost instantly, the wall lit up with an aerial view of a string of islands.

"Matemo Island, situated off the Northern coast of the area formerly known as Mozambique, is a favorite among African island destinations. Its absolutely pristine beaches and a place to do nothing but recover from a safari…"

Small pools began to form in Uhura's eyes as she watched the images spill across the screen.

"I know. I know," she said, as she placed her hands over her stomach.

"You will see it soon my little ones." She began to sing a lullaby in Swahili while gently caressing her unborn twins. "We will all be there soon."


	3. Together

A/N Made minor changes because it seemed rushed and just wrong in some points ;o) Please enjoy and reviewing is loving. Cleo-

* * *

Spock carefully balanced the bags on his knee as he punched the numbers onto the keypad. The door slid open with a whoosh and he made his way to the dining area to set up dinner. He knew Uhura was fast asleep in the living room and wanted to wait as long as possible before waking her. He smiled to himself once he'd finished, trying to remember the last time they spent a quiet evening-in. That memory was usurped by another memory of a night-in, which elicited a mischievous smile accompanied by a raised eyebrow.

As he walked to the living room, he passed pictures, photographs and vases of flowers nestled on tables whose sole purpose for existence was to hold vases of flowers. Although he felt it highly unnecessary, it made Uhura very happy to fill their home with little accoutrements.

"Nesting," he said to himself. He was slightly annoyed that things happened out of sequence. That they had a home aboard the Enterprise before even looking for one on Earth. They hadn't even talked about marriage. Spock pushed that thought from his mind almost as quickly as it entered. Humans have much shorter life spans than Vulcans which made the implications unbearable.

Once he had reached the living room, he expected to see her sprawled out on the couch in her favorite pair of sweats, fast asleep. She was not. His mouth opened slightly to let a tiny gasp escape. Instead of the sweats, she was wearing a Vulcan gestation gown with her arms laced delicately around their precious cargo. That meant a lot to him. Especially since he knew she did not like that gown. At all.

He crossed the room and knelt down beside her. Swooning a little as he drew near. As if intoxicated or entranced by her presence. The light from the screen danced across her face and caused her to glow. He had remembered their days together at the academy and how challenging it had been to control his desire for her. More than two decades of disciplined training were not nearly enough to quell what he felt for her then and what he felt for her now. Together. To. Get. Her. He calculated that he actually believed in miracles for 1.73 seconds when he finally got her. When they were finally together.

He placed a hand on her abdomen and a kiss on her forehead.

"Nyota," he whispered just inches from her face. She opened her eyes, smiled and yawned, "Hey."

"How long have I been―" She was interrupted by a kiss. Softly at first, as if he was trying to melt into her, slowly. Now a little more forceful. He was trying to consume her. She broke the kiss and called his name.

"Spock?" He was somewhere else.

"Honey?" She placed a hand on his cheek. That seemed to bring him back.

"I…have set dinner on the table. Please, let me help you." He carefully helped her to her feet.

"…I see you are wearing the gown," he said.

"Yeah, the sweats don't fit anymore…this is really comfortable though…I like it."

Liar. Although he had explained to her on several occasions the futility of lying to him, she insisted on doing it anyway. Both of them smiled to each other, fully aware that said lies had indeed been told.

"It is puzzling that you have kept those pants for all these years, given the history they possess."

"Yeah. Why did I hang onto them? I guess…because it reminds me of us somehow. They remind me of you."

"Garments made for the sole purpose of drawing bodily fluids away from the human form during recreation reminds you of me?"

Uhura laughed so hard her eyes welled up with tears.

"I do not find this amusing."

"Oh, sweetie. I'm not laughing at you. It's just that you have this way…you define things―"

Spock's look to Uhura conveyed a message that said, "Continue, I dare you!" which made her change course.

"Look…what I meant was it reminds me of us in the beginning. They capture a time period, not your essence."

"Then I suppose I will never truly understand the human desire to make unnecessary abstract comparisons."

"Oh here we go. Not tonight. Please?"

Spock led Uhura to her seat at the table and took his at the opposite side. He looked at her looking at him and wondered if they would ever truly understand each other.

"No," said Uhura. "You won't. And that's what makes this what it is…something beautiful. Nothing more. Nothing less."

Spock let his lips curl into an almost undetectable smile. Undetectable to anyone but Uhura of course.

"…Then I will continue to…stop trying to fix it. It is not broken, as you say."

"No, it ain't broke," teased Uhura.

"No, it is chicken," said Spock.

"Did you just tell a joke?"

"I made an attempt. Was I successful?"

"Yeah, good one."

The two smiled at each other and commenced with dinner. Uhura thought back to the day she got the academy issued sweat pants and smiled. "Always a fighter," she thought to herself, and took a big bite.

* * *

Uhura looked down at the heather-gray training uniform she was just handed and rolled her eyes.

"Excuse me! Excuse me," she said, as she pushed through the crowd of disbursing students and approached the instructor.

"Cadet Uhura, what seems to be the problem?"

"I don't understand why combat training is mandatory. I mean, I understand why, but I don't understand why it's not optional. Why it's not simply an elective?"

"Miss Uhura―"

"Cadet Uhura."

"…Cadet Uhura…we at the academy feel it is necessary for all future personnel to possess some form of combat training. Being that you are a first year, you―along with all the other 1Ls, are required to take Beginning Combat Training."

"But there's an upper division class I wanted to take―"

"YOU, are required to take Beginning Combat Training which takes place on this day at this time. Now be a good little cadet and go change. I'm about to start soon," she said, as she turned and started to walk away.

"And what if I don't?" shouted Uhura. The instructor, a very tall woman with jet black hair and ice-blue eyes slowly turned and walked over to Uhura, standing just inches from her.

"What did you say? I couldn't hear you from all the way over there." A small crowd was now forming.

"I said what if I don't?"

"What if you don't? Sweetheart, I don't think you understand. You don't have a choice in the matter."

"I'm an adult. Just like all the other students here. I have a choice. I want to know what happens if I choose not to participate."

The instructor stood up straight, towering over Uhura. She looked around at the crowd of students gathered and decided to make an example of her.

"Then I'll _make you_ participate."

"What?...Regulation states that instructors, academic staff and personnel―"

"Oh I'm familiar with the rules honey. This is Beginning Combat Training and you're my first volunteer."

Uhura took an involuntary step back and searched the crowd for an exit. None.

"OK class listen up! Your first lesson will be on over-powering your opponent. First, take a wide stance. Next―" the instructor moved like lightening and before Uhura could process what happened she was lying on her back.

"―add an element of surprise," she continued, grinning manically down at Uhura. She turned her back and began to address the students once more.

Without thinking, Uhura sprang to her feet and rushed the instructor. She turned just as Uhura connected and was knocked to the ground. Uhura straddled her, dealing blow after blow to her face until she was pulled away by security and led through a crowd of classmates who had already begun distributing texts and videos of the fight on their communicators.

* * *

She sat anxiously in the hall outside the Academic Senate. Advanced Phonology began in less than ten minutes and it was all the way on the other side of campus. She wasn't worried about the outcome of the council's decision though. As the top student not only in her entering class, but in the entire academy, her record had been clean up until this point. She traced over the embroidered Starfleet emblem on the sweat pants, wondering when it would be an actual badge.

"Cadet Uhura, the council will see you now."

She shoved the pants into her bag―the top had been lost sometime during the scuffle, and walked into the room with her notorious walk. The one that led people to believe she owned the place. She flung the bag unto an empty chair and stood resolutely before the council members with arms crossed behind her back.

"After reviewing the surveillance data we conclude that you acted in self defense, as we believe it was the instructor's intention to…continue the lesson as it were. There will be no disciplinary action and your academic record remains unscathed."

"Thank you. Is that all, council?"

"…We understand that you do not wish to participate in Combat Training, are we correct?"

"Yes. As my record indicates, I am tracking towards a Communication Officer and would much rather pursue courses that will benefit me in this endeavor."

The council members began to whisper to each other.

"We understand that you may choose to seek legal compensation for Commander Petrova's actions. Instead, we would like to offer you exemption from the mandatory Combat Training course, and full access to any and all courses, training, research, etcetera, that will aide you in pursuit of your goals with Starfleet."

Uhura smiled. "Ok. Sounds great. Thank you council."

"You are dismissed."

Uhura nodded and turned on her heels.

"Oh wait, there is one more thing…"

"Cadet?"

"I'm gonna need a ride."

* * *

"Thank you," she said, hopping of the transport. She rushed up the stairs and down the hall. She was two minutes late according to her time. "That's okay, that's okay…" she thought. After all, no instructor at Starfleet Academy ever began on time. She was so wrong.

The door swung open in the vast lecture hall and Uhura was greeted by the stares of approximately 500 students.

"Cadet, this course started two minutes and forty-five seconds ago. It begins every Tuesday and Thursday at exactly four pm. Please take a seat."

Spock resumed the lesson as Uhura stood at the top of the stairs. She paused for just a second more before making her way to the front of the class.

Feeling that no one was paying attention, he turned to find Uhura glaring at him defiantly as she took a seat in the very first row.

"Cadet please state your name."

"Uhura."

"Uhura what?"

"Cadet Uhura."

"…Cadet Uhura, I find your behavior to be unacceptable. Although I had informed you of your tardiness, you insisted on being disruptive by failing to take a seat in the back."

"I never sit in the back."

The students began to look around. Rumor had already spread about her altercation with another instructor just before. The place was filled with excitement at what she might do now.

"Cadet Uhura, being that you were late, the logical choice would have been for you to sit as close to the entrance as possible."

"I don't…sit…in, the back."

The student's murmurs filled the air and the space between Spock and Uhura possessed a thickness all its own. A mixture of anger, defiance, and something else. The two remained locked in an intense gaze for nearly a minute. It was uncomfortable. Students began to shift in their seats which drew Spock's attention.

"Cadet Uhura, you _will_ see me after class."

"Fine! What page are you on?" she asked, as she removed her data module from her bag.

"Who is this defiant human female?" Spock thought to himself.

"Three hundred and thirty-five," he answered coldly.

"Thank you," she said, matching his tone exactly. He did not like her. At all.

He continued with the lesson, noting that it was by far the most difficult lesson he had taught. Although he managed to avoid making eye contact with the young cadet, he could feel her piercing gaze that seemed to harden as each minute passed. Deep down inside, he was beginning to feel an emotion he had not experienced for a long time. Not since childhood in fact. Regret. And now he regretted having to meet with this angry woman after class.


	4. Flow

A/N I had a lot of fun with this one being that I'm a linguistic anthropologist. I tried not to get too carried away though. Come to think of it, I guess that's why I love the Uhurock pairing so much―they're my people :o) Enjoy and please continue to point out those inconsistencies.

Cleo-

* * *

"This was the first time we've been off planet, right Markus?"

"Umm hmm."

"We came all the way from Earth! I entered a baking contest and got first prize which was a trip here, to the Akraydian Strawberry festival! I'm a real good baker. Right Markus?"

"Umm hmm."

"So I knew deep down inside that I would win. I made my famous―"

"End programming." Spock had heard enough.

"Markus, my deepest sympathies," he said. Uhura was fast asleep once more. This time, she was lying on her back with her head in Spock's lap. As he gazed down at her, he allowed himself to be pulled away to thoughts of their future together, escorted by the gentle rising and falling of her chest and swollen mound. He stroked her hair. His heart ached. Other than his mother, he never contemplated the possibility of loving another human so much. He smiled to himself. He never thought he could love _anything_ as much, especially after their initial encounter.

He repressed a flush, remembering his first day of teaching Advanced Phonology. He had spent hours preparing a lesson plan for his students that was both challenging and interesting. In fact, he had been quite pleased with himself. "And then you walked through the door," he whispered in Vulcan.

He decided he would let her sleep just a little longer, continuing to caress her gently as he meditated. His thoughts synced with the rhythm of her breathing until everything was still. So still, that he allowed the sound of four hearts beating to seize his consciousness and guide him to a state of absolute peace.

* * *

"When we calculate the mean value of stress given to the ‼Xåð word for a [mate], we find that its semantic value is [sex]," Spock said, as he turned his back to the large monitor to face the class.

"Thus proving, that despite their intelligence, expansive vocabulary and large number of clicks, whistles and squawks, the ‼Xåð seem to be restricted to communicating about the same things again and again. In this case, sexual intercourse. It would appear that the ‼Xåð and humans your age share this trait. Class dismissed."

Spock's joke got a few chuckles here and there which was much more than he expected given its matter-of-fact presentation. Reveling in the moment, he had forgotten about his meeting with an angry Uhura after class and was quickly reminded when her hand shot up in the air.

"Cadet Uhura," he called, the students stopping to listen.

"I disagree."

He was genuinely puzzled.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said I disagree. I think you're wrong," she said with a smile.

The students began to whisper.

"Silence! ...Cadet Uhura, I can assure you that my calculations are accurate."

"Well that's my point. You made calculations."

"I do not follow your argument."

Uhura sat up in her seat and folded her hands across her knee.

"Well, commander…you have given the most stressed syllables the highest numerical values and the least stressed syllables the lowest numerical values―"

"Which is the basic structure of Metrical Phonology―"

"And, if I may continue," she said, blinking gingerly with an even bigger smile. "The actual quantity of stress given to a syllable doesn't matter half as much as the relative amount given to each."

The students began to whisper again. A strange feeling began to well inside Spock's stomach.

"Silence!" he commanded.

"What is your point?" he said curtly.

"Well, my point is…commander…that the interpretation of the recordings you provided simply required qualitative analysis as opposed to quantitative analysis…simple imagination coupled with the given context."

"For example?"

"For example…" she said, allowing her high ponytail to whip behind her. "You informed us that the recording was of a male and female during spring, correct?"

"Correct."

"Well, the male used the word !kjæã three times in one six-word sentence. !kjæã, which comes from the verb !kã―to mate, also has connotations of love and unity depending on where the stress is placed. When you interpret the dialog based on your calculations, the sentence is, [mate, let us mate and mate]. If you take into consideration the relative stress given to the words in the entire sentence as well as the context―spring and the fact that they may have a history together, it becomes, [beloved, let us love and unite]. Thus proving that the ‼Xåð are not only capable of communicating on a wide range of abstract topics, they are capable of doing so simultaneously and perhaps well beyond the reaches of anything we have imagined."

Damn. He was wrong. But there was no way he was ever going to admit that.

"Thank you Cadet Uhura for simply providing an alternative interpretation. Class dismissed."

"What?" The word ejected itself from her mouth and her cool façade crumbled immediately. She glared at him in disbelief as he took a seat at his desk. She sat in her seat staring at him waiting for the other students to leave. She tried to calm herself. She had already given one instructor the beating of their life today and she felt she was very close to making it two.

Spock tapped idly on the computer screen as he looked up her file. He knew he had angered her and he didn't really care. All he held for her was scorn and disdain, especially since she tried to make him look bad at what he did best. He turned from the monitor and placed his hands together on the top of his desk. With a slight tilt of his head he beckoned her to approach.

Uhura bit down hard on her tongue as she crossed the room.

"Commander," she said calmly, trying not to let any of her rage slip through the cracks in her freshly bruised ego.

"I have just read your file; your behavior appears to be out of character. Were you unaware of the time the course began or do you feel that somehow rules do not apply to you, given that all 492 of your classmates managed to be punctual? Are you not in possession of a suitable time-piece?"

She stared at him unmoved. It was clear that he wanted a fight, and she was going to give him one.

"I have a watch…and I know what time the class starts."

"Then why were you late?"

"Because I couldn't get here on time!" she snapped. The cracks were now fault lines.

Spock raised an eyebrow, both in surprise because her logic was sound even though her answer was insufficient, but more importantly, he was starting to get to her. Uhura decided she was going to make one more attempt to hide the damage.

"Look…my record shows that I have perfect attendance and I'm never late―"

"Despite your tardiness, you chose to disrupt the lesson by failing to take a seat immediately and as quietly as possible, by _marching_ all the way to the front of the class," he interrupted.

"Oh you've _never_ _seen_ my march!" Her eyes were burning now and the fault lines had become fissures.

"And you continue to be defiant in the face of discipline?" he asked, raising his voice.

"I will be defiant in the face of someone who won't admit they're wrong. This has nothing to do with me being late. This has to do with me calling you on your $%&!"

Eruption. The last word reverberating over and over again in both their heads.

Spock slowly rose to his feet. The two of them were locked in a heated gaze refusing to stand down.

"…You simply provided an alternative explanation―"

"Bull $%&!"

"YOU WILL NOT USE THAT LANGUAGE IN MY PRESENCE!"

"YOU KNEW YOU WERE WRONG AND INSTEAD OF ADMITTING IT YOU COVERED YOUR ASS!"

_"IMPOSSIBLE!"_ he shouted in Vulcan. Not that it was impossible for him to be wrong, but that she was impossible. Uhura understood quite plainly what he meant. For Vulcans, this word used in this context was the closest thing to a derogatory swear-word they had.

_"Of course,"_ she replied in Vulcan. "_I understand completely. A race incapable of feeling emotion, unless forcefully elicited, could **never** truly understand it on their own. No matter how hard you try, you will **never** understand. You could listen to that recording a hundred times and you would **never** get it."_

They stood there in silence for a few seconds more. She was waiting for him to say something but he just stood there with his palms pressed firmly against his desk, breathing heavily, focused on the never, never, never. She turned and stormed out of the room. That was her march. It took all his strength not to call out to her, to say that she was wrong. To explain to her that she had it backwards. Vulcans felt too much.

The door closed behind her and he sat back down. His palms still pressed against his desk, as if he were using them as an anchor to keep from drifting away.

He allowed his breathing to still and turned his chair to face the monitor.

"Play recording 17," he said. He closed his eyes. Not to hear better, but to stop the spinning.

"Again," he said, eyes still closed.

"Again."

"Again."

He was going to prove her wrong.


	5. Sand

A/N Sorry for the short hiatus, presentations and conferences oh my! There's a deliberate misconception in this story which I will save for later...like a certain peanut-butter cup. As always, please read, enjoy and comment. Word. Cleo-

**Just a quick note about comments...if it's not something you would say to a stranger in person, then perhaps you should revise it. Like most people who write fanfic, I'm doing this for fun. I do want to improve my writing and the only way to do that is through constant feedback. So, I welcome criticism as long as it's constructive, and if you don't like something in the story or the story itself--that's cool, just tell me why and do so in a respectful manner. However, to accuse someone of following trends and actually posting hasty generalizations about a story _before_ it's complete is not only non-constructive but tactless.

Cleo :o)

* * *

"Don't you have someone waiting for you, or somewhere you should go to?"

Spock peered around a large mound of very old books, annoyed. He sized-up the steward before giving a flat and distant reply.

"No. There is no one waiting and no one I should…go to, as you have stated." Prepositions should not be placed at the end of a sentence.

"I said _somewhere_ you should go to, not _to_ someone!"

Great. Now custodians were challenging his linguistic prowess.

"Look, this is the last place I have to do. My family's waiting for me and―"

"I am leaving. I apologize for any inconvenience my presence may have caused."

Spock paused for a moment before quickly closing a book and collecting his things. No one. There was no one waiting for him, but there was somewhere he could go, although he didn't feel like going home just yet. He needed to clear his head first.

It had taken him a considerable amount of time to discover Cadet Uhura's interpretation of the ‼Xåð recording and he felt defeated. _He_was the most distinguished graduate at Starfleet Academy, and yet a human female―who was late, was able to decipher both interpretations long before he even considered the possibility of an alternative. She was right and he was…Spock quickly dismissed _that_ thought and continued down the empty corridor, exiting the building to a moon that hung low in a starless sky. He took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of different air. This was his fifth time away from Vulcan, but by far the most challenging. He was a young boy his first few trips off planet, and he missed having his father explain cultural differences, like why humans insisted on excessive, artificial lighting at night that blocked out the stars.

"Negative ions," he said aloud, almost as if trying to distract himself. The MLK fountain at Yerba Buena Gardens would do. He needed to get near falling water to drown out the sound of the recording that played over and over again in his head, and to dispel the uneasiness created by the barren sky.

Spock made his way across campus to the light-rail station easily. He had researched Starfleet Academy and the layout of San Francisco extensively before he left Vulcan, so he was actually better at navigating the BART than most natives. As he made his way to the vacant platform, the events of the day began to unfurl and replay.

"_Impossible_," he thought to himself. The memory of yelling at her caused a dull ache in his sides. He focused his thoughts, thinking about the recording, which was far less taxing. He had listened to the track forty-seven times before he could identify even the slightest shift in stress. He had to admit, Cadet Uhura possessed a gift in detecting sonic anomalies.

His mind began to wander. "Star," he whispered, and looked around expecting to see someone who had caught his slip. No one. His mortification slowly faded, even though you wouldn't know it just by looking at him. Nyota meant star in both Lingala and Swahili, the latter being one of her native languages. He felt foolish and embarrassed at the thought of someone actually reading someone else's personal files so many times. He felt even worse at the thought of said someone then searching for them on the internet. "Both the search history and cache were cleared…repeatedly," he assured himself.

As the train approached with a faint hum, he thought about how he was going to prove Nyota Uhura wrong. He had an entire day and the most of the morning to design a lesson plan that would leave her perplexed. Eons of time for someone like Spock. "Perhaps" he thought. After all, he did read her file and now he was beginning to have doubts, even if they were only slight. Either way, that's what he was going to keep telling himself.

* * *

pon∙farr [pón faar] Vulcan mating ritual, usu. occurring every seven years during adulthood.

"No wonder!"

"Gaila, come on. Seriously, move!"

"Well it's true!"

Uhura rolled her eyes as she resumed her seat at the desk.

"Suffice to what you believe, everything's not about sex."

"Well…no…but a whole lot of it is."

Uhurajust shook her head and continued typing.

"How did you even find that, I was looking for the syllabus?"

"Well it wasn't hard…which is the problem," Gaila said, and burst into laughter.

"Ugh, you're such a pig―oh here it is."

"What's it say?"

"…upon completion of the course…students will be able to…blah blah blah…analyze and describe the phonology of a language within various theoretical frameworks, ok…they will have developed an understanding of…various factors influencing innovative and/or systematic sound change…blah, blah…study of phonological data from a variety of languages, with special attention to stress and tone..."

"But you can already do that."

"…I know," Uhura said with a sigh. "I know."

"But wait a minute! Why don't you just do one of those…independent thingies? They said it was cool right?"

"You mean independent study?"

"Yeah! Why not? Plus he's already acting like a total spazz. You don't need that."

"Gaila, Commander Spock is the most distinguished graduate at Starfleet. His dissertation on nominal and concordial prefixes in Haakonian is still the most widely cited text on the subject. He's not only the best Xenolinguist at Starfleet, he's the best on this planet, so _he_ is who I am going to learn from."

"Well," the corners of Gaila's mouth spreading into a wide grin. "Someone's been doing their…research."

"Ugh, you are such a perv. It's late, go to sleep!"

"Uh oh! Hit a nerve huh?"

"Gaila!"

"What? I'm just saying. You don't have to get all butt-hurt."

"What? What does that even mean?"

"Look…all I'm saying is that I know how you are around intellectuals, so I wouldn't be surprised if you were on his jock."

"On his jock? Why are you talking like that?"

"I don't know. I saw this really old Earth movie the other day. Anyway, I think you should do the independent study thing instead of wasting your time in that class. You'll only end up hating― _Commander Spock_, for teaching you stuff you already know."

"…Ugh…I'm tired. Today was rough. Really, really rough." Uhura said, as she placed her elbows on the desk and fingertips on her temples. "I don't know what to do…Even though you're crazy, you have a few valid points," she teased with a lazy smile.

"See! That's what I'm here for. And since you really, really want to work with him, you can still pick him as your advisor right?"

"Well…yeah. If he says yes."

"Oh he'll say yes. After hearing what happened today, big freak's probably looked at your file like a hundred times. He's probably―"

"Gaila!"

"You're right, you're right. I forgot…once every seven years."

The two women sat staring at each other, waiting in anticipation for what Gaila was going to say next.

"…It would be killer extra credit though!" Gaila said, before erupting into laughter.

"That is it!" Uhura said, trying to repress her own laughter before descending upon Gaila with playful punches.

"I am not on his…jock! I am a career minded woman!"

"Right!"

"We totally hate each other. I told you what he called me?" Uhura said, as she plopped down on the bed beside Gaila.

"Yeah. You sure are taking it well. Or is this part of your 'Uhura act'?"

"The academy is not traditionally a place for women, especially smart women who happen to look a certain way. If I want to be taken seriously, I have to be assertive. How many times are we going to have this conversation?"

"I'm sorry, I understand. It just…must be exhausting?"

"It is what it is. At least for now anyway."

"OMG!"

"What?"

"Sexual tension!"

"Try to be serious for at least a second."

"I am being serious. What you described to me was textbook sexual tension. Trust me, I write those books."

Uhura sat up, interested.

"Well what do you mean?"

"I mean you're hot he's…a man―"

"He's Vulcan."

"Males are men Uhura. Wow! I mean, that's about as basic as it gets."

"I mean Vulcans don't feel anything. I know he's a man," she said, delivering another playful punch.

"Well we know they feel something at least once every seven years. Maybe it's been seven years and he's ready to get down. Either way, he's a man, you're hot, you both know your stuff, you both know the _same_ stuff and you called him on it in front of _his_ students. Wow…To be honest, I'm surprised he didn't throw you on the desk and―ouch!"

Uhura pinched her.

"You asked!"

"Yeah, but I forgot how graphic your answers can get. Ugh, I'm going to bed."

"Yeah me too…you make a decision yet?"

"I don't know," Uhura said, as she slipped under her covers. "I guess I'll sleep on it…DON'T SAY IT!"

"What?" Gaila said, as she pulled her covers up to her chin. "I was going to say, lights!"

And with that, the room was dark.

"…and I was going to suggest that you show him your skills in oral sensitivity."

"Gaila, Gaila, Gaila…only you could make linguistics sound so incredibly dirty."

"Thank you. Good night."

"Night."

Gaila fell asleep fast while Uhura lay perfectly still. It was going to take every ounce of concentration to sort this out. "_Impossible_," she whispered, as a lonely tear-drop rolled down her cheek and dampened her pillow. She had never spoken to an authority figure in that manner and today she could add "assault" to the list as well. The tears were streaming now. "Morning" was the thought that guided the creation of a million different solutions and scenarios as she drifted off to sleep. Because it would all be better in the morning. It had to be.

* * *

Three twenty-one. Spock noted the time. Something was wrong.

"Lights!" he said, and gasped at what he saw. Uhura's arms and legs were swollen to twice their normal size.

"Nyota! Nyota answer me!" No response. "Alert medical immediately!"

Spock hurriedly laid her out on the couch and knelt beside her placing three fingers on her zygoma. Nothing.

"ALERT MEDICAL NOW!"

"Medical has already been alerted and should be arriving in fifteen seconds."

He was starting to really panic. He placed his hands on her stomach and closed his eyes. Nothing.

"Help," the words barely passing his lips. "Help…HELP!" He couldn't do anything to help them. He just stood there, frozen.

"Good god!" shouted McCoy, jolting Spock from his haze.

"Doctor, I believe it is Eclampsia. She must be stabilized immediately before―"

"Chapel, we gotta get that blood pressure down now."

"Yes doctor."

"OK, let's move and be quick about it. I swear you guys are on sundial when you need to be on stopwatch…Come. She's gonna be ok," said McCoy, placing a hand on Spock's shoulder before following after the gurney.

"And our children?"

"…Yeah... And the babies too."

"DO NOT LIE TO ME!"

"…I'm sorry. We'll do all we can but…it's too early to tell."

He stopped. He watched as they entered the elevator, standing completely still. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion and he could feel a pressure bearing down on him. Tremendous, crushing pressure, like the pressure caused by the weight of water. He collapsed and curled in on himself. Anything to try and hold it together, but it was like trying to hold sand at this point. The harder he tried the more slipped away.


	6. Sanctuary

A/N Sorry for hiatus number three but there's another one coming as well as I leave for the city of lights in a few days.

As for these next 5 chapters…I'm all over the place in this one and things move pretty fast, so I broke it up into small chapters. The characters are OCC because I want them to evolve to where we see them in the film and beyond that, and I take liberties with them being around loved ones. It's disturbing to me to even try and make them the same, as that would suggest they're static. Reviews are welcomed and needed to improve which I would like to do. So give me a holla if you wanna, just be respectful please. Hope you're well and enjoying summer!

Cleo-

* * *

There was an odd pause as he lapsed into silence. He had just finished translating excerpts from an ancient Haakonian poem for Thursday's lecture and was ready for bed. Three twenty-one. He noted the time. His head was already swimming in a mixture of genuine exhaustion and frustration, and the time symbolizing some sort of ironic countdown only added to his fatigue.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to help clear his mind, he inhaled as he rose to his feet and exhaled as he took the first step away from his desk. "Lights." The sound of his own voice serving as a beacon for the feelings he had managed to quell just moments before. The trip from his office to his bedroom would however give him ample time to organize his thoughts, and as he moved through shades of darkness to light he was both astonished and bewildered to realize he was no longer angry, but ashamed.

"Lights."He caught glimpse of his eyes in a mirror and looked away, quickly. Spock had indeed allowed himself to be consumed with pride, nevertheless he reasoned it was due to overcompensation. This was of course, far more problematic. On Vulcan his achievements were constantly challenged due to his lineage; on Earth they were lauded because of it. Yet after years of disciplined training, how could he react to foolish misperceptions and succumb to pride of all things? He needed a shower.

"Lights." He took off his boots and socks and let the cool from the tiled bathroom floor radiate upward through his body. He neatly and methodically removed his clothes and stepped inside the module. "Activate setting eight." Warm blue light emanated from behind a honeycomb patterned wall as low frequency sound filled the chamber. He drew a long, deep breath. When he closed his eyes, he saw her face. "Lights." The semi-dark would provide a better place for meditation, especially since he was going to take his time.


	7. Arena

A/N The poem, as is this very story called Domestica itself is inspired by a song of the same title. Enjoy!

Cleo-

* * *

"…and thus we see the structure of ancient Haakonian syntax to be similar to that of modern Haakonian in this poem about daily life…That is all for today, remember that your project proposals are due at the beginning of class on Tuesday."

"Commander," a student slowly raised their hand and spoke. "I think it's about love…"

"I beg your pardon?"

"…It's about love," said the student, sitting up and speaking a bit louder.

"And what evidence do you have of this, being that the word 'love' is not mentioned in the entire piece?" Although he showed no outward signs, Spock was beginning to get nervous. This was only the first week of class and already students were challenging him. He questioned whether this would end in confrontation as well.

"Umm, well…the guy's going about his work, but he seems like he's making a lota mistakes, but his attitude about it seems like he doesn't really care."

"The Haakonian are a peaceful people that practice―"

"No, I see what you're saying," said another student. "It's like…he keeps making mistakes because his mind is somewhere else."

"Yeah, it's like…Oops, I knocked over this bucket of koche but life is great…Oops I left the motor running in the mill, now the grain has ground to dust and is blowing away in the wind," said another before the entire class broke into steady chatter.

"Yes, possibly," Spock said to his surprise. "As your classmate pointed out earlier in the week, language is inherently interpretive. Enjoy your weekend."

The students who spoke exchanged shoulder shrugs and raised eyebrows before gathering their belongings and exiting the hall with the others. Spock quickly collected his things and sought the refuge of his office. He was vexed, irritated, embarrassed and a whole slew of other feelings that before now exited primarily in Vulcan texts on meditation. Despite the fact that he spent hours on today's lecture, he still managed to miss something and he felt the students were aware of his lack of thoroughness.

Once he was behind closed doors, he allowed his thoughts to steep. He was having difficulty managing this new gamut of emotions and he was done. He needed to stop. He needed to lean into the cracks just a little before patching them up again. After several moments, he raised his computer monitor and composed himself. He sat and stared at the translucent screen. Finally fingers hovered across the smooth glass surface, discriminately making contact here and there as if operating on their own volition. He placed his hands on his desk, poised.

"…Spock!"

"Hello mother." He shut his eyes suddenly, but only for a moment. When they were closed he felt all anger leave him.

"How are you, _Commander_ Spock?"

"I am fine mother. I take it that you are well?"

"Yep, I'm fine, your father's fine…"

"Is father there?"

"No, he's out and about. Should be back any minute though, what's up?"

"Nothing. I thought I would call."

"Spock. You can't lie to me. I know something's wrong…Talk to me."

He paused and tried to remember whether or not he had done this before. He hoped, if anything, that this would be the first and last time.

"…I feel that I am…having difficulty adjusting to my current circumstances." His voice trailing off into a near whisper.

"What do you mean? You don't like teaching? It's not what you thought it would be?"

"I enjoy teaching very much mother...it is…I am uncertain…"

"Well what happened?"

Another pause. He was ashamed and unsure if he wanted to increase that shame by telling anyone else, even his mother.

"I failed to present all possible interpretations of a text twice, and in both instances it was a student who brought it to my attention."

"…So! That's it?"

He was taken aback.

"Yes. As the instructor it is my duty to provide the students with the most accurate information."

"Spock, you did!"

"Yes, but I failed to provide all possible solutions."

"Don't try to! ―Wait a minute…which student?"

He began to flush.

"I do not see how that is important. What _is_ important―"

"If it's not important you would've told me already."

She had a point.

"…Today, it was a young man. It is a large class so―"

"Oh more than one student each time. Got it…and the second student?"

Crap.

"…A young cadet―"

"IT'S A GIRL! You have a crush on one of your students!"

"Mother please keep your voice down! What you have suggested is highly inappropriate."

"Spock they're all your age. It's not like you're some dirty old man who―"

"Mother this is simply unacceptable."

"I bet she's pretty and really smart if she's correcting you."

"I was not wrong, I was mistaken."

"I was under the impression that you were the only Vulcan at Starfleet Academy."

Spock's stomach dropped.

"Yes father, I am."

"Hi, I didn't even hear you come in," said Amanda before giving Spock an incredulous look.

Sarek stepped into frame and took a seat next to her.

"You are infatuated with one of your…_human_ students?"

"No. That would be inappropriate."

"The fact that something is deemed inappropriate does not eliminate the possibility of its occurrence."

"No father, it does not. However, I would not wish to engage in activity that would compromise my position here at the academy."

"Good…It was also my understanding that you would choose a Vulcan mate as you have made a commitment to follow the Vulcan way."

Spock looked at his mother who was trying her best to put on a smile, but he knew his father's remarks had hurt her.

"When the time comes, father, I shall choose a mate who can be held against the highest Vulcan standards. Now I am afraid I must go. I must prepare the next lesson. Live long and prosper." He wanted to exit this conversation just as quickly as it had begun.

"Oh…well good bye Spock. Call again soon," she said, as she gave Spock a nervous look before turning her attention to Sarek.

"We will finish this discussion at a later time. Until we speak again," his father said right before the screen went blank. He was disappointed and Spock could tell.

That brief interaction made the entire situation exponentially worse. His mother's observations, however faulty he thought them to be, left his mind jumbled with a plethora of what he thought were groundless questions: Did he indeed care for Cadet Uhura? Did he subconsciously choose today's poem because he was thinking of her? Would he find a suitable mate on Earth? He was getting a headache. It seemed to worsen every time he thought about her being absent today. Was that what this was about? After all, he designed the lecture with her in mind. Spock was bewildered again but it had to wait. Someone was at the door.


	8. Neither Here Nor There

"Spock," Sarek said sternly as he exited the elevator. "I had been informed of an emergency. Upon arrival to the medical facilities I was told that you were not present… Why are you not at the medical facilities with lieutenant Uhura?"

Spock was now sitting in front of the elevator with his back against the wall. He looked up at his father before staring off into the distance once more.

"Spock answer me!"

"…I cannot face the possibility of…losing them…I am still grieving for mother…I simply do not have the strength…"

Sarek looked down at his son. It was a look that held all the love in a world with no means to convey it. He took a seat beside him and the two sat in thick silence for what seemed an eternity given the urgency of the situation.

"…The same thing happened to your mother, when she was carrying you."

Spock turned to his father, his forehead knitted tightly and eyes wide open.

"I believe now that it may be the result of interspecies progeny. Perhaps it causes some degree of toxicity in the mother during gestation."

Tears welled in Spock's eyes.

"So I have brought this upon her?"

"No. No of course not. Those children were conceived in love, as were you. It is not a matter of fault when love is involved."

He stood up and extended a hand to Spock.

"We must go. She needs you by her side, as I will be by yours."

Spock simply nodded and took his father's hand. As he was pulled to his feet, Sarek squeezed firmly and looked deep into his eyes.

"I love you too," he thought.

Sarek nodded. Simply knowing was means enough.


	9. Venus

A/N As I had mentioned, I'm a pretty big fan of the Divine Comedy so I play on that a tiny bit with some of the chapter names like this one. I'm also talking about the nature of the planet, or at least what we can see reflected in the clouds. Enjoy!

Cleo-

* * *

Spock stood at his desk, frozen. Could someone have overheard his conversation? There was another knock. It made him flinch. He straightened himself before going to the door and waited for a third knock before opening it.

"Hello Commander…I was wondering if I could speak with you?"

Spock kept a stoic look on his face as he motioned for her to enter. He couldn't say anything though. Not just yet. He walked back to his desk and sat as far back as possible.

Uhura sat down and crossed her legs. Her long hair cascading over her left shoulder as she set her bag on the floor. Spock moved his chair back a little further.

"Umm…would you like me to close the door?"

"No-I-think-it-would-be-better-if-it-were-left-open," he blurted out. "Remain calm," he thought to himself.

"Right," Uhura said, lowering her head slightly.

He noticed the way she stroked her pinky with her index finger as her hands lay folded in her lap. Long delicate strokes issued by delicate fingers. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked.

"Why are you here?" he asked abruptly. "Salutations to the energy which informs all logic and being. Salutations to the energy which informs all logic and being," he thought to himself. Perhaps a mantra would keep his mind from wandering.

"…I've decided to do independent study and was wondering if you would be my advisor? I know your first impressions of me are terrible, and I'm sorry. I'm very sorry, I cannot stress that enough…but I'm a really good student." She sat up straight and raised her chin, calling on all the confidence she had. Having realized she didn't have enough, her eyes darted to the floor and she decided instead on mild flattery.

"In fact, I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to go into the private sector, but then I read some of your work and knew Starfleet was where I wanted to be. So that's why I'm here," she said, ending with a nervous smile.

He wanted desperately to ask her what work of his she read that inspired her. He wanted to know if he was the reason she was tracking towards a communications officer. He wanted to ask her what Matemo Island was like in the summer, but instead, "Why were you not in class today?" came out of his mouth.

She blinked uncomfortably and her cheeks flushed.

"…I decided to drop the class and do the independent study."

"What?" He was genuinely hurt.

"…I thought it would be more…beneficial if I―"

"I understood what you said, I do not understand why you would not partake in the independent research in _addition_ to advanced phonology. As a complementary course."

"Well, I went over the syllabus and feel that I already have a pretty thorough understanding of the material you present―"

"So I have nothing to teach you?" He was puzzled. He looked down at his shirt because he was certain he felt something tightening in his chest, but there was nothing.

"No! I mean, yes. Yes of course…I just thought I'd be able to apply myself more if I focused on―"

He needed to be alone. He couldn't think. Couldn't process anything at the moment. Not today. Not right now. He needed to get her out of his sight as soon as possible. He needed to do it, now.

"To answer your question cadet, no. I do not think it would be possible to advise you at this time."

Spock got up and walked over to the door, waiting for Uhura to leave. She remained in her chair and looked pleadingly into his dark eyes. Nothing. There was nothing there to communicate any semblance of compassion or understanding.

She slowly turned in her chair and picked up her bag. She got up and walked over to the door, stopping in front of him just before leaving. She refused to believe this was the same man that helped shape her life's trajectory and she was not going to leave until she saw something, anything to prove her right.

The two stood inches from each other, both afraid to breathe. As he looked into her eyes he wondered how they would look in the morning just as the sun was rising. How they would look if she were crying, or laughing or smiling or in any other situation except this. He wondered how they would look as he held her, as he kissed her. He wondered how they would look as they made love. He shut his eyes suddenly, but for a moment too long. His breathing was audible now. It betrayed him.

"There," she thought to herself and smiled slightly, but smugly. That was all she needed. She looked away for a moment before resuming her gaze. She stepped in just a few inches more until she could feel his breath.

"I didn't mean to cause you any strife. It must be hard enough for you to be so far away from home without having to deal with difficult students." She stepped back. "Another time."

He didn't realize she was walking away until he registered what he was hearing as the sound of her boots beating out a rhythm down the long corridor. He watched her. He stood motionless and silent, listening to her footsteps, first upon the floor, then down the stairs. As if releasing himself from something strange, he turned into his office and shut the door. It was only Thursday.


	10. Empyreus

It was a cool morning in spring. No one was up, just her. She could take the boat out. No one was up. She was big enough now, but not like the others. "Too much reading and not enough playing," is what they said. She _could _take the boat out, but was it worth the trouble? Yes. After all, it was a cool afternoon and the sun was still high in the sky. She liked to lie on her back and read. That way, she could watch the clouds pass overhead and shape them in her mind to fit the characters and settings in her books. She had a lot of old books. They didn't mind the salt water like the data pads. One was about a little boy. She liked that boy and enjoyed his company. They weren't big enough, so he helped her take the boat out. He had a funny haircut. Pointy ears. They would lie on their backs in the boat and he would point at the clouds. It was a cool evening in autumn. Altocumulus. Cirrocumulus. They would float on their backs in the salty crystal blue water and gaze up at a crystal blue sky. She was five…four…it was summer…three…little boy…two…

"Nyota." She opened her eyes for a moment and gave Spock a weak smile just before losing consciousness again.

"She's gonna be OK. They're all gonna be OK. Next time you might wanna get your ass down here a little sooner though. Had me kinda freaked out," McCoy said as he placed a hand on Spock's shoulder and gave him a firm shake. Spock looked at Uhura then down at his feet before looking back at McCoy.

"Thank you doctor."

"It's my job! I wasn't really freaked out either, just trying to make you feel better."

Spock raised an eyebrow and said, "I do not see how, but I thank you for the gesture."

"Well I'm a doctor, not a therapist. OK, we'll leave you guys alone. A few things first though: swelling's going down, should be fine in a few hours, completely gone in the next day or so. She's gonna be asleep for a long time just to make sure they're stabilized but you and your father are more than welcome to stay. Just as long as you're quiet. I know how rowdy Vulcans can get………Well apparently I'm not a comedian either. Goodbye."

Spock and Sarek nodded in agreement and McCoy left the room. Spock sat down and leaned forward, adjusting his chair to be face level with Uhura. He kissed her on her forehead as he placed a hand on her stomach.

_"I love you,"_he whispered in Vulcan. Sarek stepped forward and placed his hand on his son's shoulder. No more words were exchanged. In that room, with the people he loved, none were necessary.


	11. A Subtle Art

A/N This takes place after Venus with implications that he has had some time to think. Spock is reciting lines from the Inferno by Dante Alighieri in both Italian and English (which is a personal fav. so I thought I would indulge myself). (Spock is speaking Italian?…Sorry, my fangirl mind just realized he can in fact get hotter). He's been "researching" Uhura (nice way to say stalking) again and found that this is one of her favorite pieces of lit as well.

His thoughts are mixed with mine as I narrate/navigate. Also, Spock/narrator pick up on lines, thoughts, feelings mentioned in earlier chapters. I tried to make it flow from my mind, through his…I was concentrating more on senses and feelings to convey thoughts and emotions. It's a completely different story if you read it a second time. Enjoy!

Cleo-

****New note****

I've received a number of private messages aksing why I've fallen off the face of the earth...I have not, just doing research abroad at the moment. I was hoping to have a spare minute to myself to update, but there's been some activity in the EU which relates directly to my research. This means no spare time for me...probably. I will try, try, try if not, I will be back mid August which is just bullucks I know.

You guys are awesome and I really dig your support and the whole get down (that means thanks a lot),

Cleo-

* * *

"_Amor, ch'a nullo amato amar perdona,  
mi prese del costui piacer sì forte,  
che, come vedi, ancor non m'abbandona…"_

But even so, he thought, they were the way they pretended to be. He exhaled. This is what he was looking for. It would be better this way.

He had been standing in the same place for so long that his legs were numb. He wavered slightly as he stepped out onto the terrace. He inhaled. The smell of the different air was intoxicating, but only just so. Before, enduring its slap and sting had been enough to make him regret admission to Starfleet Academy. Every breath was an angry victory. But it wasn't the air.

"Love, which absolved no beloved one from loving,

seized me so strongly with his charm,

that, as thou seest, it does not leave me yet…"

It was the way he breathed. A subtle art, and he went about it haughtily, at first. Until now. Just now in fact. He did it again. In deeply and then out until his shoulders sank. He marveled in his new found skill. Long fingers trailed lazily along the top of the glass railing as he moved to the farthest corner of the terrace. This was new too. He took a step back peering through the glass. The lights from the city shot diamonds through it. "I understand," he said. You don't need stars in the sky if you can produce them on the ground.

He sat down at a table under a Sakura tree in full bloom. He wondered how many first year graduates were offered teaching positions at the academy, let alone a corner office with rooftop terrace. He exhaled. He didn't have to lean into the cracks at all. They were unnecessary to begin with.

He sank down in his chair so that his face mirrored the sky. He felt his heart swell as a gentle breeze blew through the trees, sending down a rain of blossoms that bathed him in their sent. As he looked up through the branches laden with pink flowers sharply contrasted by a pitch sky, he laughed. But just a little. He didn't want to overdo it. That was the first time he had ever done that. No, this was the first time he had ever done this and he made a note to do it again. Often, but alone. It would be better that way. After all he could pretend. Just like this Sakura tree that managed to pretend it was spring and go into full bloom despite the fact that it was fall in San Francisco.

"_Necessità 'l ci 'nduce, e non diletto._ Yes. Necessity brings _me_ here, not pleasure."

_This_ was meditation. He had been taught that mediation was a means to appropriate control. Control over one's mind, one's body. Allowing the body, the mind to appropriate control through the senses was a means to induce meditation. Funny that he never thought to invert the syllogism.

Pretend. He got up from his seat. He concluded that the tree was manipulated somewhere in its genealogy to bloom year-round. Basically, it was taught. If a tree could learn to pretend…He went back into his office and sat before his computer.

He had a page open on academy rules and regulations. He closed it. He was well aware of what the rules are. He had Uhura's file open. He copied part of it and closed that too. He had a page open on San Francisco and the surrounding areas. He clicked on a link.

"…_fatti non foste a viver come bruti,  
ma per seguir virtute e canoscenza."_

No, we were not born to live like brutes, but to follow virtue and knowledge. He knew how to use a computer! It would eventually lead to virtue. He was almost certain.

"_Amore, acceso di virtù, __sempre altro accese,  
pur che la fiamma sua paresse fore."_

Love kindled by virtue always kindles another. "Provided that its flame appear outwardly," he said as he shut down his computer. He decided he would take a trip down to Mendocino over the weekend. He would pretend he needed to get away from the academy. At least, that's what he would perform if anyone asked. Some Vulcan isolation ritual or whatever. Humans were gullible.

It would be easy. Just to pretend. To lean into the imaginary. To consciously engage in performativity. To be teacher and student. Hard working student and dedicated teacher. He knew he could do it, and he was certain she would participate too. Because there was no way in hell he was going to wait three years for her to graduate. That's absurd. It would be better this way.


End file.
